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A WEEKLY JOURNAL OF POLITICS, LITERATURE AND NEWS,

EDWARD WHELAN]

- ae _ _ ae ————n esas tenia Chis is true Liberty, when Free-born filen, having to advise the JJublic, man speak free ——EURIPIDEs. [EDITOR anp PUBLISHER a sl rl NNN a ee ee SER A EEE a LE

Vou. V.

eeeth "a WaAKeaAn a ; HARRIS, BVWIITF8D A Ba. | Commission Merchants,

RUSSIA WHARF,............ BOSTON.

Particular attention is given to consignments of Vessels and Produce from the British Provinces ; and the purchase and / shipment of all kinds of Merchandize, with a general Insurance | Agoney. September 10. |

$4933 Duras, | James W. Cairns, .-.... Proprietor,

KENT STREET, CHARLOTTETOWN, P. BE. I.

Pleasantly situated, and every comfort afforded at moderate cost. CF Horses and vehicles, for hire, in connection with the establishment.

Saprowder 3. Bh Nh nett ata Sh \ots One by one I count them o'er, JAW 3 3 4 )2a) 3, Voices that are heard no more,

ay Tears that loving cheeks have we Commission Merchant, General Agent and Words, whose music lingers bea

ee

CHARLOTTETOWN, PRINCE ED

LONG AGO.

When ateve I sit alone,

Thinking on the Past and Gone— While the elock, with drowsy finger, Marks how long the minutes linger— And the embers, dimly burning,

Tell of Life to dust returning ;

Then my lonely chair around,

With a quiet, mournful sound— With a murmur soft and low,

Come the Ghosts of Leng Ago.

Auctionoer. Holy faces pale and fair, QUEEN STREET ae locks of waving hair— CHARLOTTETOWN, PRINCE ROWARD ISLAND . appy sighs and whispers dear,

Card. a= YY ONY ‘ YIN RD OA STSWAgT 2 WALES,

Ship Brokers and Commission Merchants, Por tae sale and purchase of American and Provincial Produce, and Dealers in Provisions, Fish, Oil, &e.

FERRY LANDING,.....<... WATER-ST., ST. JOHN, N. B. Rerexences — Charlottetown, P. E.I., Jas. Purvis, Esq.

St. John, N. B., Messrs. R. Raxxex & Co. Oct. 8, 1855. 6m

Songs forgotten many a year — Lips of dewy fragrance—eyes Brighter, bluer than the skieg— Odors breathed from Paradise.

-_- -—

And the gentle shadows glide Softly murmuring at my side, Till the long unfriended day, All forgotten, fades away. °

Thus, when I am all alone, Dreaming o’er the Past and Gone, All around me, sad and slow, Come the Ghosts of Long Ago.

-_---

*=_:oe-e

THE MANY THINGS THAT ADAM MISSED.

Adam ne'er knew what ‘twas to bo a boy, To wheedle pennies from a doting sire, With which to bargain for some pleasing toy, Or calm the rising of a strong desire To suck an orange. Nor did he E’er cast the shuttlecock to battledore, Nor wore his trowsers ever out at the knos, From playing marbles on the kitchen floor. He never skated o'er the frozen rill, When winter's covering o’er the earth was «proad ; Nor glided down the slippery rill, With pretty girls upon his trusty sled.

a ia . ; * He never swung upon his father’s gate, Alliance Life and Fire Insurance Company’ of Or slept in sunshine on tho cellar door,

LONDON

—

Nor wasted chesnuts at the kitchen grate, ESTABLISHED BY ACT OF PARLIAMENT i Nor spun his humming top upon the floor. Isth. . ' Hie ne'er amused himself with rows of bricks, Capital, Five Milions Sterling. So set, if one fall, all came down ; CUARLES YOUNG, : Nor gazed delighted at the tunny tricks Aorit 04. Agent for P. KB Island. | Of harlequin or travelling cireus clown. a —————————— | By gradual growth he never reached tho age, Bwelling House and Lind noar Caarlotte- | When cruel Cupid first invokes his art, “town for Sale: | And stamps love’s lesson, page by page,

. a ; : Dp), OR SALE, the newly built and commodions Dwelling } oe ae cwusualme cine, mse in Chaglottetown Royalty, lite the residence of the Hon. | rs : . 5 Siig €h a: am together with eighteen neres of Land adjoining. The . W end her he loved aa all earthly — . Pweiling House contains— Dining Room, Drawing Koom and Study; two Nor tried to mount old Pindar’s rocky heights, Kitchens, with Stere-rooms, év.; and Nine Bed reoms. ‘There iz also } Beeause he fancied love had lent him w ings. He never tripped it o’er the ball-room floor, Wheres love and music intertwine their charms; Nor wandered listless by the sandy shore, Debarred the pleasures of his lady's arms.

| Sables, Coach-hoase, Root-house, Pump, &e ,on the premises. Tho dis- tance from Charlottetown is rather less than ons mile Ato t» let from year to year, or for a term of years, as agreed upon, | several Pasture Lots in Charlottetowa Royaity, near the above Dweiling |

House. a ’ ae 940 : For Terms of Sale and Lease apply to the sebseriber at the Attorney | For Adam-—so at least tis said

Genera!’s Ofice, Culunial Building, Chariottetown. { By many an ancient and a modern sage--—~ Suiv 80. JOSEPH HENSLEY. | Before a moment of his life had fled,

oa Freehold for Sale. r Was fully thirty years of age. MLLAT we'l known Freehold, of 55 acres, “EG LANTINE;

—~--¢—pDee-s — POINT,” Fortune Bay, forinerly owned by Epwarp ABELL, is | '

(From the London Uljustrated News, Dec. 22, 1856.)

now offered for sale, of whieh a good and valid title can be given. For | fetter particulars apply to Keyietered book 24, page S78. A ) Notice. yas penalty prescribed by law shall te rigidly enforeed in future against ail persons who deposit snow or any | prais: or cavil at it, will take its place among the Lnglish | , ther obstructive nuisance on the City Wharfs, or on the ice ‘classies, let us narrate, as one of the greatest literary incidents | mad » over the docks adjacent thereto. ., of the time, the extraordinary bustle and * pother”’ which it | The subseriber caused to be removed from off the said | .ooms to have created in the book-selling trade. Wo learn Wharfs on the close of the navigation five empty casks, as also from a daily contemparar that ‘— awheelbarrow. The owners ean have them by paying expenses. “ The public have called for 30,000 copies—or, to put it : CORN ELIUS LITTLE, W harfinger. plainly, 60,000 yolumes—of a work of which previously they Janeary 14, 1856. ain. . had not beheld a single . Its fortunate publishers, we fmt ls Gina ne , inatdia Ott loarn, have been embarra to meet this unusual demand. Regular Trader and first Sp ring Ship for Their arrangements have been unprecedented. A chamber of Charlottetown, P.E. Island. ; ‘considerable dimensions has been set apart for the packing o! EW Clipper Ship ““MAJES LIC,” M. Wats, | 55 many thousand volumes at a time, and several other rooms Commander,——900 tons, A. 1, iron kneed and | jaye been cleared to receive these in relays. We are unable Pe ee for roy | to state the page cee a of ae men, st and Steerage Passengers, and is In every respect @| required for the simultaneous delivery of so many volumes, int rate conveyanee fur fine Goods,—has proved herself a fast | but which have tested to the saunak on narrow capacity of silee ou her firss voyage,—will be despatched from Liverpool | Paternoster-row. ‘These are the material incidents of the ap- on the Ist of April, 1555. Yor particulars please apply to | pearance of this coveted work ; but its expected issue has Mews. D. Cannon, Son & Co., 52 South Castle Street, Liver-| suspended other literary ventures; it has disturbed all pub- Pols or the owner aa, W: LORD, lishing and book-selling arrangements, and devoured dor a _ Nov. 5, 1855. Charlottetown, PE. Island. | tims the promise of authorship.” : eamey Removal | Mr. Macaulay commences his third volume with the procla-

De, oe ; his th hi 'mation of William and Mary, in 1689, and coneludes his Pn TORNES, Conner. Name 2 2eme his thanks f0 Bis fourth with the signature of the Peace of Ryswick, in 1687.

port he hi secived for the last thirteen years, and seomid | Fae oe goodty vousines of 1,500 pages and upwards comprise acquaint dhe Me that } * pe we ved to eer Biimed Street pPiamo of not eee = a rate poe a Mr. ‘ on ae oe en a ~. | Macaulay complete the History, whic ® promised to bring oe the Free Church, and trusts that by strict attention to) jo wn toe period within the rem athrene ne tae still living? — to merit a continuance of their favours. Never. The work will remain a fragment—a ecléatal one, it _Vharlottetown, October 1, 1855. 6m. is true, but still a fragment,—and not a work of art; an at- ae pe Ss itti tempt to do a great thing, resulting in a failure, from the UST arrived Gos. Fittings. pe age miscalculation of the means to the end. To accomplish the J the WORKS ‘eity of ‘ad handsome | ‘8k which Mr. Macaulay set himself, upon tho scale in Nrrincs, eat oe ae re which he has hitherto wrought upon it, would, if he carried NGS. WILLIAM MURPHY, Manager down his history to the Frencli Revolution of 1789, (a period November 19, 1855. tf.

of ninety-twe years from the the Peace of Ryswick) demand Coke, Coke.

no less than twenty-two vol addition to the two which he has just published. ‘* Art is long — is short.’’ a i i t before him, and if he R SALE at the GAS WORKS, a quantity of yery | Mr. Macaulay thirty working years ye » him, an superior COKE, at 6d. per bushel, or 16s. con Chbhieoen were the fortunate possessor of the ain corpore sano,

a J MACAULAY’S “ HISTORY OF ENGLAND.” AND a Macaulay’s anxiously-expecte% eontinuation of his ‘History of England’? has at length appeared. Before

entering inte any criticism of a work which, whether critics |

i

4d lis. per Ct ff. ‘ . for the whole of that time, he coul 8 | accomplish the tas Woke es Af, Sine or Wa ae poses Menecer mighty labour. We may be positively in, however, unless a shat : = lead large stores in reserve—unless he have already com-

BOOKS, BOOKS. — leted a dozen or so of volumes, that the great work will stop Pu Subseribor begs to call the attention of the reading short of ite promised fulfilment; and that a History of Eng- Public to his Stock of new and gecond hand BOOKS, |land, worthy of the nam>, yet remains to be writter, G b'cn a | knowledge, still sits upon the imperiai throne of history—unapproached masters will if not unapproachable—and Macaulay, who challenged him in Works, Eng- his seat, and aspired to rival him in power and majesty, and f completeness, must be contented to rank beneath him. And yet Mr. Macaulay has ability equal to the task. He has a ready pen, anadmirable style, a picturesque and glowing Li we Ta imagination, a creative power sufficient to revivify the dry Ep Liquors, Liquors. bones of the past, and marshal them, like beings of flesh and z B ANDY, GIN, WIN E, SPIRITS and RUM, a capital | blood, in solemn and gorgeous pageant, for the delight and Alno—fon” anmag ewe and New Year. instruction of living men; and he has the comprehensive mint Old she -— superior Ccraars and Bloom Ratstys, | and philosophic jokouens to draw from history the lessons it

ate eg ‘ ” Al jn au Prises works on every branch of h

"various languages. Ministers and ing 6), Mspection that they can obtain valua ‘tons, at one-third the usual price.

Charlottetown, Nov. 12, 1855. a PRE AGREES.

——- -

rendered of less avail than they might have been, by one per- vading fault—that of diffuseness. The temptation of a pic- turesque incident is too great for Mr. Macaulay to resist. The | steady flow of History is continually impeded that he may toy | as he goes with a flower or with a ruin by the wayside, that he may show how great a master of composition he is, and that, |

> if he so willed it, he might be greater as poct and novelist than he chooses to be as histarian. But such is the charm of these interpolations, that the reader scarcely wishes them ab-| sent, though he has often to go back for pages to catch up the | abandoned clue of the narrative, and to know where he was, before the tricksy enchanter led him from the broad highway into the flowery gardens, the branching avenues, and the per- petual mazes that boarder the read, far away from the stations and landmarks of true history, to the more beautifal but less satisfactory regions of pure romance. And this is not the only fault which has led Mr. Macaulay to extend his book beyond the limits he allotted for it, and beyond the limits of a lifetime to carry to completion. He enters too largely into minutia, and is often as prolix asa contemporary reporter, describing ina daily or weekly newspaper the events of his own time. At the very outset of his third volume we meet the following passage, which exemplifies the fault we mean :—

“Garter King-at-arms, after making prodlamation under the window of Whitehall, rode in state along the Strand to Temple Bar. He was followed by the Maces of the two Houses, by the two Speakers, Halifax and Powle, and bya long train of coaches filled with noblemen and gentlemen. The magistrates of the City threw open their gates and joined the procession. Four regiments of militia lined the way up Ludgate-hill, round St. Paul’s Cathedral, and along Cheap- side. ‘The streets, the baleonies, and the very housctops were crowded with gazers. Ail the steeples from the Abbey to the Tower sent forth a joyous din. The proclamation was re- peated, with sound of triumph, in front of the Royal Ex- change, amidst the shouts of the citizens.

** In the evening every window from Whitehall to Piccadilly was lighted uy. The state rooms of the palace were thrown open, and were filled by a gorgeous company of courtiers de- sirous to kiss the hand-of the King and Queen.”’

The passage might serve as a model for a description of the visit of the Emperor Napoleon or of the King of Sardinia to London in the year 1856, and might have appeared, with the necessary changes of name and incident, in.the Spectater or the Leader of three weeks ago.

Let us, however, be thankful for what we have received, and are still likely to receive, from this great and brilliant writer. Weare 89 pleased to have bis companionship through the reigns of James If. and William and Mary, and anticipate so much delight and instracttoa from his peu, when we meet him, as we trast we soon shail, in the reign of Queen Anne :

No: 28.

7 anette a a i ees eee ee teenie at ka 2 —s Ore RE CTE Ny

(From Harper’s Magazine.) THE OLD MAN’S REVENGE.

When Adam Stevenson died there was grief in all the country around. It was not only the old men who had been companions of his youth and growth, and had seen him rise from boyhood to manhood, and change from the prime of life to the fecbleness of age. Nor was it only the old women whe had been young with him, and remembered the joyful scenes of years long gone, but children, even young children, whose years to his age were but as months, looked loyingly for his face, and wept that they should see it no more.

He was a good old man. The stamp of honesty was on his very: countenance, and benevolence and charity shone out of his kindly eyes. No one could say that he had ever heard of an evil deed done hy Adam Stevenson, and many lips related the good deeds of the old man with words of earnest praise.

So that when in the solemn March night, above the wailin winds, they heard the passing-bell sound over the hills mm forests, they counted the strokes, ten and a pause, ten and & pause, until the eighty were summel up, and the last twe were as if the bell had named him aloud, for every one within sound of the old church spire knew that he was fourscore and two, and now knew that he was gene to his reward.

To those who listened to that passing-bell it told a varied history in the brief moments that its sound occupied: a long tale swiftly but impressively told. There was but one mun iu the parish who eubantes the first strokes; but one man who could remember the first ten years of the life of the old elder. That man was John Moreton, whose years now numbered seventy-nine, and whose farm adjoincd the farm of Adam Stevenson. Fle knew the story ef those long years so well, that the bell but reminded him of those seenes of boyhoud, and every vibration was a story of young joys. And the old man had soft and pleasant memories as the sound weut on, but at length his thoughts grew bitter, and lone before the thirtieth year was reached he was reviewing his hate and enmity, that did not change nor diminish until the whole long life was summed up, and the iaet stroke told him that his oid enemy, as he believed him, lay dead in hisold house. And then John Moreton turned him in his bed, and a grim smile settled on his wan and wrinkled countenance—a fiendish smile it was, too— and he slept for the first time in sixty years witheut thoughts of revenge to make him wakeful.

It was strange that there should have beon one man to call Adam Stevenson his enemy. Certainly the old elder did not return the hate. It was impossible for him to do so, for his heart was all love. But John Moreton was a man of relentless disposition, whose soul was utterly callous to all the finer sen- sibilities of human nature, and his entire life had been devoted

that we feel a disappointment when we know that we cannot |

| reasonably expect to have the guidance of his picturesque in- |

l¢allect and sound jodgment in the days of the Goorzes ; and| that his work must remain like the Uathedral of Cologne, | unfinished and umfinishable.

‘*PLEASURES OF MEMORY.”

The Nestor ef our poets iso more. Samuel Rogors, the Bard, the Beau, the Banker,’’ died on Tuesday last, at his | house in St. James’s-park, overlooking the Green-park, in his | ninety-fourth year—an age beyond which the laws of nature | seldom suffer life to be extended. He was the living link between the era of Johnson and Goldsmith and our own. He was not much of a poct: he wasa correct and pleasing writer with only one note, but that note was sweet and suggestive. |

His age has heen, we observe, variously stated. We remem-} ber to have been present when the late Marquis of Northamp- ton was the cause of Mr. Rogers revealing his age at his own table. You will recoileect Mr. Gray very weil?” said the somewhat talkative Marquis. ‘No,’ was the reply, some- what sharply; for the old man would fire up impatiently. “No, I never saw Mr. Gray. I was celebrating my eight birthday on the day that Mr. Gray died.*? Now, as Gray died on the 50th July, 1771, Mr. Rogers was consequently born on the 30th July, 1763. :

Tre only English poet who attained an age of nearly equal duration with that attained by Mr. Rogers was the poet | Waller. Waller was born in 1665, ¢wo years after the death |

of Queen Elizabeth. He sat as » member of Parliament in/ the reign of James I. He was & meinber of the celebrated Long Parliament of Charles I. Ue sung the Panegyrie of Oliver Cromwell, and celebrated the restoration of Charles IT. ile was also alive at the coronation of King James IL. ; and, if his life had been spared barely beyond another year, would have witnessed the abdication of James and the accession of William and Mary. Ie was like Mr. Rogers in other respects than his poetry. He was a man of wealth, and he was a wit. Waller at eighty was still the delight of the House of Com-

to nursing the idea that he had cause to hate his neighbour. The origin of his bitterness few now living knew. It was buried with many other things in the past, and with those who know it best, in the old church-yard—the old church- yard, that solemn place where so many joys and so many sor

| rows, 89 many forgotten pleasures and so many enmities are — ymin till cas iklnesivideilenigei | vathered and kept for the day of awaking. (From the same.) { But the country story, told from father and mother to aon 6 Js se { an 1 daughter, was this: Alice Gray was the fairest girl in DEATH OF SAMUEL ROGERS, AUTHOR OF THE all the country. It was strange to think of her as once young

and beautiful whom all had known as feeble, weary and old. dat she was once very lovely in all the glory of brown tresses and bluc, deep eyes, and cheeks of sunset roses; and all tae young men loved her, and, as must always be tho caso, she loved only one, and that was Adam Stevenson.

Way, most of all his rivals, John Moreton took to hort this success of Adam, docg not appear; bat that he did so every one knew, for from the day that Adam Stevenson and Alice Gray were married he declared his enmity to them and their house, and he never withdrew the declaration. Years served but to deepen the hatred, and the kind and forbearing conduct of its objects added to its fury.

It is difficult to imagine this growth of hatred in the human heart. That it is possible, too many instances like the one before us show.

As he grew older, John Moreton found the necessity of m wife to take care ef his farm; and he married the daughter of a wealthy neighbour, who, on the death of ker father, in- herited his farm, which, added to that of her husband, made them the most wealthy people in the county. One son was the only fruit of their union, born not long alter the birth of Adam Steverson’s second child, who was also a son, and whe, by the death of his elder brother, became the heir to the estate of his father. But neither of the sons appeared likely to come som into the property of his father. and they were sent at about the same period of time to New York, each to the eara of a friend, where they were brought up to business; and at the period of the death of Adam Stevenson they were mer-

chants in New York, and comparatively wealthy, and had

married wives who were cousins. .

John Moroton passed some years of hid life with his son in the city, where he acquired those habits and ways of thinking

mons. Rogers at eighty-cight was still the delight of the | and acting which distinguish the citizen from the countryman, _ 5 5* ae : oy co a whi ise j as , 3 / . most fashionable dinner tahles in eae and Belgravia. | «nd which authorised him, as he supposed, to look down on

The sayings of Waller have deservediy found a place in some of the best volumes of our Ana; and the repartees of Rogers are likely to find a eclerity that is equally enduring.

Two very different men appeared as pocts in print for the | first time—the Ayrshire Ploughman and the enna ees

o ° Banker. In the year 1785 appeared at Kilmarnock that

volume of ‘* Pooms, chiefly in the Scottish dialect,’’ which will | live as long as the English language ; and in the same year +

eared in London, ‘ An Ode to Superstition,”’ since properly included ‘in the numerous reprints ef the poems ef its author. |

his more homely neighbours.

His wife died when she was fifty years old: died in the old farm-house, with no companion to close ber eyes save only her cold, calm husband. It could not have been dificult fur her to leave him. There was no love between them, and he had beer harsh, and even unkind; vo that, when she closed her eyes on life, there was no lingering, no opening them again to look on a beloved count -nanee, no smiling back a kind farewell to eyes that could not smile, no reaching back of longing hands to feel the lact grasp and take its soft pressure with her in the dark

Burns published his octayo volume by subscription among the jourmey.

weavers of Kilmarnoek, whilst Rogers took (as we havo heard } him relate) his poems to Cadell in the Strand and left a cheque to pay for the cost of publication. Very different indeed were | the lives in the flesh of the two men who thus commenced ,

together their lives in poetry. Burns has been dead sixty , 1

years. Rogers has consequently outlived the poet he com- | menced the race of fame with by that number of years. Nay, |

Nor were there any tears when she was dead; but, having buried her, her husband leased the farm, reserving only a right toa room and a home when he chose to oceupy it, and took up his abode with his son in the city, where he assumed the position of a wealthy citizen.

I know not what sharp transaction between them commenced the enmity which the younger Moreton had for Joseph Steven.

the “ell A. G. SLMS, ht to teach, and to mould the future by the errors, as wel me, Im Quoen’ Street. [ne by the virtues, of the past. But all thess gifte have been,

more: nearly seventy years have passed since he who died) son. Each was very like his father, and, therefore, T take it

within this very week took his first ode and his cheque to the | for granted that the wrong was, as usual, on the side of the

Murray of those days of publishing. | Moretons, and a subsequent transaction made the enmity per- When Rogers made his appearance as a poet, Lord Byron! petul. It occurred somewhat in this wise: Moreton had

was unborn—and sim = been dead thirty-one years! | sold ——— 7 of an amounting t a om a pene

When Perey Bysshe Shelley was born, Rogers was in his) doliars. The sale was made verba y, and in that rapid mane

thirtieth oe her Shelley been dead nearly thirty-four | ner with which New York merchants are familiar. : ‘he terms

yeirs! When Keats was born, “ The Pleasures of Memory’’| were one-third cash, and the balance at three and six months,

was looked upon asa standard poem—and Keats has been dead | and the goods were shipped, as per order, the same dwy. Next

thirty-five years! When this century commenced, the man | morning Moreton sent Stevenson a memorandum of the trans

who died but yesterday, and in the latter half too of the cen-| action, stating its terms at half cash and half at three mouths.

tury, had already numbered as many years as Burns and | The latter was somewhat astonished at the new version, which

Byron had numbered wae they aot Mr. Rogers was born | was a as a of aa a - Wy

before the following English poets—Seott, Southe Words- | fact that the shipment o e goods wou rate effectua

worth, Coleridge, Byi ron, Setter Liaiaphalh: Bloom fie d Cuning- to prevent their return, and an annulling of the transaction.

ham, Hogg, James Montgomery, Shelley, Keats, Wilson, Tom | He knew well that Moreton was yery short; and on finding

Hood, Kirke White, Lamb, Joanna Baillie, Felicia Nemans, him peremptory in his terms and disposed to be insolent, he

L. E. L., and he outlived them all. Our oldest living poets | wave up any idea of opposing him, and devised a scheme of

are Walter Savage Landor, bora 1776; Leigh Hunt, born: S alitiaiein’ whith was very simple and very satisfactory. Ho

1784 ; and Barry Cornwall, born 1790. baal funds on his sates se at the ordinary discount, ard We have said that Mr. Rogers was famous for his con-| went to a broker in Wall street,

versational powers, for his short smart stories, and bis sareastie — «* Is John Moreton s paper in the streot?"’

criticisms ; and we now learn with pleasure that the Rey. * Plenty of it.” il

Alexander Dyce is about to give usa volume of such gatherings) ‘* At what rate can I get it? *

from the breakfast-cloth and dinner-table at St. James’s-place. ** Two per cent. & month.

Mr. Dyce was a never-failing guest at the Tuesday breakfasts, —‘* Can vou get me any?

and had to endure, in common with others, incessant repetitions “I think I can.

of the same stories from his host. He will not, however, tell) * Do wo:

the same story twice in print; and his wallet ef queor and: . ~ amg eS eee

pithy stories is vell-stored, 4¢ Now, will wait fer it.”

Lhe aM ee

2 sti. Rms Saas

ecemee: Sear arena